Wherever You Go
by SharksRule567
Summary: -On Hiatus- AU. Hermione and Ron got separated from Harry during their escape from Malfoy Manor. All three of them are continuing their mission, while trying to find each other. Hermione and Ron were recaptured, and that is from where the story begins.
1. Taken Captive

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to JK Rowling. This idea simply popped up into my head, and it is only my take on what might've happened. None of the characters are my own, none of the spells, etc.**

A/N: _AU. Hermione and Ron got separated from Harry during their escape from Malfoy Manor. All three of them are continuing their mission, while trying to find each other. Hermione and Ron were recaptured, and that is where my story starts from. My concept of everything happening is still fairly fresh, and it will grow to be more elaborate as time and the story progresses. As always, reviews are encouraged. You don't have to say you loved it - if you hate it, let me know. Just please make all criticism constructive. I am here for the same reason as everyone else - to improve my writing and read great stories. Also, please bear with me through all of the rough edges and such. I'm new to the fanfic world, I'm trying to keep everything plausible, and keep everybody in character as much as possible, but as I am not JKR, clearly that's impossible. I just hope you have the patience to grow with me as a reader as I grow as a writer. _

_xoxo, Erin._

_'**Destiny is not a choice, it is a chance.**_  
><strong><em>It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.' - William Jennings Bryan<em>**

Hermione stood silently in front of her captor. Her eyes stared at the wooden floorboards, and she averted meeting the cold dark eyes that peered at her with distaste and hatred.

"It is not wise for you to not speak," the voice belonging to her captor whispered into her ear. The hushed tone sent chills down her spine. She slowly lifted her head, sticking her chin up in defiance, and met the eyes staring at her with equal disgust.

"I will never tell you anything. You cannot make me," Hermione spat at her captor, her chocolate brown eyes filled with a fiery hatred. Her captor roughened the grip on her arm, causing her lip to quiver slightly. She quickly snapped out of it, and the rebellious look appeared on her face again as she continued to defy her assailant. Her eyes flashed over to Ron, who was currently near unconsciousness and being roughly shoved onto the ground by a Snatcher.

The Snatcher who was holding her looked over his shoulder, being sure to tighten his grip on her even more before doing so, and noted where her gaze was directed. "Oi, what do ya say we use the ginger as a punching bag and for target practice?" he loudly suggested to his colleagues with a devilish grin and soft chuckle. The howls of agreement from the others filled the air.

"So what's it gonna be, girly?" the Snatcher holding her growled into her ear, roughly dragging her to the center of the room. "You gonna talk, or watch your boyfriend die?"

"He's not my boyfriend…" Hermione quietly mumbled, trying to jerk her arm away.

"Well then it won't matter if we kill him or not!" the second Snatcher, the one holding Ron, declared, laughing loudly as he cast a body-bind hex on her, which paralyzed her and forced her to look forwards. Hermione had to remain strong. She and Ron had both known what they were getting themselves into, and they had both been prepared to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

"Bring the ginger o'er," the first Snatcher said, nodding at the second Snatcher as he watched Hermione try to fight to hex. Her eyes told him that she was strenuously trying to fight off the hex, to no avail.

"Sorry about this, princess," the second Snatcher said with a smirk as he punched Ron squarely in the face, eliciting a gasp from Hermione. She promptly closed her eyes to avoid seeing any more, but not before a tear fell from her watery chocolate brown eyes.

"Open your eyes," a third voice said from behind her, resulting in another gasp from Hermione, this one from being caught off guard. He roughly jerked her hair and held his wand at her neck. Hermione's eyes flashed open, and horrendous sights of Ron's limp body being kicked about and being tortured, with his fear-filled blue eyes connecting to her chocolate brown ones.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed. Sorry would never suffice. She was single-handedly responsible for this, and they had both agreed to do whatever they had to do. That included not cracking if they were tortured for information. Hopefully Ron would be either dead soon, and out of pain, or they would give up, and move on to her. She was hoping for the second option.

"Leave him alone, please!" Hermione shrieked, whimpering as her hair was pulled again.

"What's that?" the second Snatcher said. "She said to leave her boyfriend alone."

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione said quietly.

"I heard," the first Snatcher grumbled, a look in his eyes that rivaled any evil she had encountered in her lifetime. "We will, if you tell us what we need to know."

"Please, don't hurt him," Hermione pleaded, her vision becoming blurred by tears.

"You're too pretty to hurt," the third Snatcher said, stroking her chin with his long, dirty index finger as he stood behind her and whispered into her ear. "Think about it o'er the night, and why don't you heal your boyfriend. Talk to us in the morning."

The body-bind hex was lifted and she was pulled along the ground before being shoved down a set of wooden stairs and into what she presumed to be a dark cellar. She heard the thud of what she knew to be Ron's body moments later.

Mustering all of her strength, Hermione got a firm hold on him, and slowly dragged him to the corner of the cellar. It took her awhile, as her frame was much more petite than his. With an exhausted sigh, she collapsed in the corner, and lifted his head, setting it in her lap.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, kissing his forehead lightly. She brushed his hair out of his eyes as she made note of the fact that he was now unconscious. "What did they do to you?" His face was bloody and bruised, matching the rest of his scathed body.

"Her-my-nee," Ron slowly mumbled, wincing at the pain in his rib.

"Shh, don't speak, you'll wear yourself out," Hermione told him, wiping the falling tears from her face. "We both knew something like this was almost inevitable. It was going to happen sooner or later. But don't worry. I'll bet Harry comes crashing through the door any moment to save us from yet another catastrophe."

This elicited a pained laugh from Ron and Hermione gently laid his head on the dirt floor.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?" Hermione asked, kneeling beside him and carefully unbuttoning his shirt to examine the damage. Her question was answered when she saw a wound on his hip that was still gushing with blood. Her intuitive nature kicked in, and quickly tied his shirt around him, pulling it taut. She continued pulling to make sure it was as tight as humanly possible.

"How do you feel?" Hermione inquired softly, stroking his cheek gently. "You were so brave. I should have done something to save you."

"I'm…fine," Ron groaned, slowly grasping her free hand in his and squeezing it. "It wasn't your fault. I'll be back on my feet in no time."

"It is my fault, Ron, it is!" Hermione cried out before she kissed him.

"Stop it," Ron growled, narrowing his eyes. His expression softened when he saw the look of hurt on her face. "Don't blame yourself for this. You were right - we both knew what we were going to get into. I think I can already feel myself healing." He demonstrated by slowly sitting up, but unsuccessfully hiding his grimace.

"Let me help you," Hermione said, supporting him as she helped prop him up against the corner.

"Thanks," he said quietly, laying his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Anytime," Hermione whispered, sitting down next to him, and hesitantly laying her head on his shoulder. He looked so frail, she was worried she would hurt him. He reassured her she wouldn't when he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"I love you, Hermione," he said as she opened his eyes and looked at her. He kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair.

"I love you too," she responded, taking his other hand in both of hers and gripping it tightly. "Sleep peacefully. It could be our last night together. I think they're taking me tomorrow for information. If I don't give it to them, they're going to kill you, or torture you."

"I can handle it, as long as your safe," Ron murmured, stroking her hand. "I don't think they fell for the whole 'He's not my boyfriend' thing though, love." He chuckled lightly into her hair, and Hermione sighed with content, or as close to content as one could feel after experiencing what she had just experienced.

"They didn't, did they?" Hermione asked, unable to stop the small smile she'd been holding in from spreading across her face. "Let's just enjoy this night, and agree that we will do whatever we need to do to get ourselves safe, including not going back to save the other. We both know that if we were in the position of the dying, we'd want the other safe."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I'll agree to try my best to go along with those terms, but unfortunately, I can't promise that I won't go back for you."

Hermione sighed, this time out of sadness and slight frustration. "I want you to be safe!" she protested, closing her eyes. "That's all."

"We'll both agree to try our best to follow the terms then," Ron concluded as he rocked back and forth slowly, holding her in his arms.

"Fine, deal," Hermione relented, somewhat irked that he'd won.

"Good," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Now sleep. We'll never be in a cellar as nice as this again. I mean, they really went all out with the dirt floors, and one candle."

Hermione chuckled as she buried her face in his chest. "It amazes me how you can always find the humor in something," she whispered before giving into the exhaustion that was begging to overtake her body.

_The Next Morning_

"Hermione," Ron whispered frantically, shaking her lightly. "Hermione, I heard them. I think they're coming."

Hermione groggily raised her head before the realization dawned on her. "It's alright," she swore, more so trying to convince herself than anything else. She scooted back so she could look at him, or try to, as there was one candle in the room, and it was hanging right by the door. "How is your rib?"

"Sore," Ron admitted, his pale features pulling into a frown.

"Oi, you and your loverboy need to get your asses upstairs!" the third Snatcher commanded, grabbing Hermione by her hair and dragging her off. Hermione kicked and fought as best she could, desperately looking at Ron as she tried to escape his grasps.

Ron realized he may have to hurt Hermione to save her, and in a moment of rash bravery or stupidity, he leaped and ignored his throbbing midsection, and swung a punch at the back of the Snatcher's head. Hermione was being dragged, and therefore, was out of range for his punch, which is what he used as the determining argument when he had debated with himself for half a second.

"What the hell?" the Snatcher muttered as he released Hermione's hair. Ron quickly grabbed her and pushed her back before he sprang again, knocking the Snatcher unconscious.

"They'll be wondering where he is soon," Ron said, dragging the Snatcher out of vision of the stairwell and taking the wand from the Snatcher. "Press yourself up against the wall, when the next Snatcher comes, I'm going to knock that one out, if things start going bad, run upstairs, catch the other one off guard, and save yourself." Ron handed Hermione the wand after he demobilized the third Snatcher, and he flattened himself against the wall right by the last step.

Hermione grimly nodded, and did the same right behind him. She was sure her heartbeat would give them away, or maybe their loud, hollow breaths, as she heard the second Snatcher call out for the third, and start making his way down the steps. With each creak of the rusty wooden steps, Hermione's nerves grew.

Before Hermione's brain even had time to register what was happening, the second Snatcher was down on the ground and unconscious. "Oh my God, Ron, you were amazing!" Hermione whispered as she flung her arms around him. She drew in a ragged breath as she clung to him.

"Thanks," he said, rather proud of himself. He was even prouder that he had succeeded with what he assumed was a broken rib. He pulled the second Snatcher's body out of the ray of light from upstairs, took his wand, and cued Hermione to demobilize him.

"This is the last one. I reckon he'll fight back and be more wary. He was the toughest of the three," Ron said as he braced himself for the third and final obstacle standing between them and safety.

"He's coming," Ron muttered, raising his wand. This time, he and Hermione had placed themselves on opposite sides of the stairwell. If both of them shot spells, he was praying they both hit their mark, which would be the best bet of knocking him out.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione swiftly shouted, the wand pointed at the first Snatcher.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Ron yelled at the same time.

Ron didn't breathe until the first Snatcher hit the ground with a thud. "We need to erase their memories," Hermione said, pointing her wand at the Snatchers one by one. "_Obliviate." _

"Let's go," Hermione said, grabbing the wand off the first Snatcher. "It's always good to have an extra when you're on the run," she added, addressing the look Ron was giving her.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him the stairs behind her as they made a break for it. "Run!" he shouted.

"We're wizards!" Hermione screamed at him. She would've hit him, but he was injured, and she had just apparated them to a large forest in Ireland.

They both collapsed onto the ground, breathing in deep breaths as they attempted to regain a steady heartbeat. "Ron," Hermione started saying as she rolled over to look at him. "Let me…check heal wound…" She crawled over to him and placed the tip of her wand on his abdomen before uttering the incantation that caused him to cry out in pain, but also healed his broken rib. "I don't have any Dittany, so the best I can do at the moment is healing the open wounds the muggle way."

It was the first time they'd seen each in daylight without having their minds preoccupied on escape. Ron looked worse than Hermione had been able to tell the previous night. His skin was mostly a bluish-purple color, and he was covered in dried blood in multiple places.

Ron wasn't pleased with Hermione's appearance either. Her face was gaunt and pale, the circles under her eyes were almost black, and she had deep cuts all along her legs. He was lucky he couldn't see what her back looked like, or he'd have a panic attack.

Hermione felt bad, he was probably freezing, since she'd had to take off his shirt to make a tourniquet for the gash to his hip. It had been the only way to control the bleeding, since she herself didn't have the strength to keep an even amount of pressure all through the night.

"Are you cold?" she asked, kissing his forehead before she peeled back his shirt, now a tourniquet, and took a careful look at the cut. "It's looking better, and the bleeding's stopped."

"No, I'm fine," Ron lied. His chattering teeth gave him away.

"We just need to recoup and rest for a day. I doubt they'd expect us to be in Ireland."

"That's where we are?"

"Yes. I came here once years and years ago with my aunt and uncle." They sat in silence for a moment, before Hermione stood up. "If I recall correctly, caves are prevalent here. If we can find one, we have shelter."

"Brilliant," Ron said, sighing and laying his head back down.

"You don't have to do anything, just relax," Hermione said as she started examining the trees, searching for any indication behind the thick foliage that a cave might be present. She moved from the tree to tree, carefully examining the surrounding area. Several minutes later, a small explosion startled Ron out of the light sleep he'd fallen into.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he cried out, shooting up like a bullet and rushing to her side.

"Relax, love," Hermione told him. "I thought I saw a cave behind the foliage and I needed to clear it," Hermione ushered him to follow her as she slowly knelt down and crawled inside the cave that, had indeed, been hidden behind the foliage. They wouldn't have otherwise found it, had she not caused the small explosion. She scooted as far over as she could to allow Ron access.

"I have to admit, this is bloody cool," Ron said as he looked up in awe. He rubbed his hands together while his teeth clattered loudly and his body shivered.

"Come here," Hermione said, although there was barely five centimeters between them. Ron happily obliged, and she pulled him into an embrace. They lay like that for the rest of the day - their limbs tangled together and their bodies pressed up against each other.

Several_ Hours Later_

Hermione was about to shift her body when she realized Ron was asleep. They had both sat in silence for several hours, and she'd closed her eyes, but without falling asleep. It would seem natural that he'd fall asleep. He was injured and he had probably drained himself of a week's worth of energy fighting off the Snatcher's with a wound like his.

The cold cave floor brought to light just how cold it was. It had been a bearable temperature earlier in the day, a little chilly, but not too bad. Now, it was freezing, and Hermione inferred it had come from the sun's setting.

She slowly sat up, as she had fallen into a comfortable position lying with her head in Ron's chest. Ron stirred, but did not awaken. Hermione stroked his hair lightly with her hand. Her hand was bloody and dirty, and normally she would've been hesitant to touch anyone with it in that state, but alas, he was just as grimy. His beautiful ginger hair was matted, and where cuts and bruises weren't existent, dirt was there. She couldn't find a decent-sized patch of his pale skin that wasn't dirty.

"Of course!" Hermione hissed, mentally slapping herself since her hands were currently too close to Ron to physically slap herself without waking him from the rest of her body moving. She had her bag! The Snatchers had paid no attention to her bag! They had been so infuriated by the couple's refusal to cooperate, they had immediately started focusing on the torture.

"We can get out of this cave," Hermione muttered, lifting Ron's head very slowly from her lap and setting it gently on the cave floor. She got on all fours, the cold rock irritating her skin with its jagged surface, as she crawled outside. The crisp, cold air hit her face like a pile of bricks, but she welcomed it. It was refreshing.

Hermione hadn't noticed while she was trying to get Ron into the shelter of the cave that the forest was on a plateau-type landform. Hermione grinned as she looked below and saw sand and crashing waves. "This is too amazing," she whispered as she began to climb down the ten-foot side of the plateau.

Her fit hit the sand below with a _thud. _Straightening her back, and wiping dirt off her hands, Hermione took off her jacket, letting the air flow around her arms, bare from the tank top she had on. Her shoes quickly followed suit, being added to the newly formed pile, along with her socks, and bag. She pulled her frizzy hair out of her face and up into a messy bun. It certainly wasn't going to cooperate for long, but while it was being docile, she was going to enjoy it.

Opening out her arms and squealing in delight, Hermione ran out into the water. She let the cold waves crash over her feet as she dug her toes into the sand. She tossed her head back, and admired the blue sky, before shutting her eyes and feeling every ounce of pressure lift from her shoulders. It was everything she needed and more. She was like a child again. She was being reborn.


	2. Don't Cry, Pretty One

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything! This is simply my perception of what could have possibly happened. Every bit of copyright belongs to JKR.**

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my first chapter. I've been stressed lately, and I'm hoping I can use this story as an outlet for any anger, irritation, or stress release. I've also decided that each chapter will rotate between the point of view of Hermione, Ron, and possibly Harry. As always, please don't hesitate to review! Just be sure to tell me what you liked and didn't like, and keep all criticism constructive. I certainly don't expect everyone to like my writing, so I won't get offended if you tell me so politely!_

_Some clarifications I feel that I should mention: __Ron and Hermione are not dating yet. Both seem to be aware of the other's feelings, deep down in__side, but they won't come to terms with it mentally. Even though Ron said, 'I don't they bought the "He's not my boyfriend," thing,' he was teasing.__This is an AU story, but it will follow somewhat of the same plot as DH. It will be slow progressing, so if you are hoping for them to find Harry within the first three chapters, then you've come to the wrong place. __I still don't know what I'm doing for the story. I'm just writing as I go along, keeping in mind my general plot idea. Also, please let me know if you would like me to rotate chapters between Hermione, Ron, and Harry, or just Hermione and Ron. - Erin_

_**'Experience is a hard teacher. She gives the test first, the lesson afterward.' **- **Anonymous**_

Ron woke up to a throbbing pain in his side. His head ached, and he couldn't even see the freckles on his dirty skin. The realization that hit him was the fact that he and Hermione had escaped from Snatchers, and he'd had to fight for both of their lives with broken ribs and an excessively bleeding wound in his side.

Clutching his side, he sat up and looked around. _Where was Hermione? _"Hermione?" he weakly called out. No answer. He buried his face in his hands and drew in a shaky breath. He had lost Harry and had no idea where he was, and now he'd lost Hermione. Maybe it was the universe's way of telling him he didn't deserve to have any friends. Especially not someone like Hermione. How was he supposed to survive without her? Her creepy level of knowledge on almost every subject had been an invaluable aid to their survival, and he would surely die from a silly error within the first forty-eight hours.

Doing his best to ignore the grueling pain, he crawled out of the cave. Each time he heard the soft _thud! _Of his joints hitting the cold rock, he winced. Each movement was accompanied by severe pain. He had never felt so sore, but he had no right to complain. Harry and Hermione had been through worse. That was part of the reason he'd gathered up the courage to tell her how he felt – he thought she was going to die.

The sunlight hit Ron in the face like a pile of rocks. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dingy lighting of the cave, and the light was far too bright to not make his headache worsen. He looked around him. He didn't know what he was looking for. He wasn't a walking encyclopedia like Hermione, and he didn't know how to track people , or look for fresh prints, or disturbed branches. He was completely and utterly clueless. Just another thing to be failed by Ron Weasley.

Ron tugged at the shirt around his wound. It had stopped bleeding, and Ron figured that was good enough for him. He promptly removed it and placed the tattered rags back on him. He stepped carefully as he made his way through the trees. He didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what he found.

He stopped in his tracks as he peered down the cliff. He'd found her. She didn't look hurt or upset, in fact, she looked rather happy. He'd never seen her look so at peace or tranquil in all his years of knowing her. He was battling himself internally. He had never wanted to run to her and sweep her into his arms more than he did at the moment, but it felt like he'd be intruding a personal moment. He was awkward enough as it was. He didn't to give her any more reasons to just forget about him and fall into the arms of Harry, Viktor, or one of her many waiting suitors.

Ron smiled as he watched Hermione let her guard down, something they hadn't been able to do in a long while. Truthfully, he did feel a bit like a creeper, just standing there and watching her, so he gave her one last glance, and began working his way back to the cave.

"Ah!" he cried out as he stumbled over a rock. So much for being careful. He winced as he felt fire spreading throughout his abdomen. It was worse than when the wounds had been inflicted by the Snatchers. Now that the wounds were attempting to heal themselves, a heavy blow to them only heightened his pain.

Without a second thought, he instinctively placed his large palm over his side. _'Get back to the cave,_ Ron,' he told himself. _'Get back to the cave.' _The pain was blinding now. His hand was red, doused in blood, and the blood was trickling down his side. Each step he took used a frightening amount of energy. He wasn't even halfway back when he realized that the only thing that was able to keep him moving was the idea of safety being back in the cave.

Fifteen strenuous minutes later, an exhausted Ron Weasley collapsed on the cold cave floor. Inhaling deeply, not even noticing at the dirt his face was in, he lifted his head. "Hermione?" he called out, desperation being the only thing present in his tone. "Hermione?" No answer. He was alone. He was alone, he was hurt, and he wasn't smart enough to fix it himself. He needed her, and he couldn't get her.

Wait... he knew wheres he was... He hadn't been taught how to make his speak yet, but surely he could direct it to her...

Lifting his wand, and remembering the peaceful times he had shared with Hermione in fifth year, he commanded as strongly as he could, '_Expecto Patronum.' _A Jack Russel Terrier burst out of his wand, and he sighed with relief. He'd succeeded. He willed the dog to run down to the beach Hermione was at, and pointed the wand in the direction for good measure.

If she remember what his patronus was, he'd be lucky. If she didn't, she might worry someone knew she was there and apparate away, or most likely, come back for Ron. He was hoping she'd come regardless.

Ron willed the patronus to run about the beach for five minutes, hoping she'd seen it. He didn't have the energy, mentally or physically, to keep it going, so he willed the dog to run back to him. Before long, he saw the terrier, and it burst back into his wand. He was alone again. He was alone, and he'd never before needed help as much as he did now.

_Thirty Minutes Later_

"Ron?" a voice called, waking Ron from the unconsciousness he'd drifted into. It was soft...and feminine. It called out again. "Ron?"

Ron crawled to the side of the cave where the entrance was located, so he could see who the voice belonged to. His mind wasn't exactly in its best place right now, and he was still bleeding. He rolled over onto his back, sprawling out on the ground and breathing heavily.

"Ron!" the voice called again, and he saw a figure come into view. It was Hermione. She ran over to him and knelt down beside him. "I'm so sorry I left, Ron," she said. He could see the tears leaking out of her enchanting brown eyes.

"Your wound is reopened. I need Dittany," she said, fumbling about in her beaded bag. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she had no idea if he was awake enough to pay attention to her, and she was more comforting herself as she spoke, rather than him.

Ron let out a scream of pain as he felt the Dittany begin to heal the gash. It stung, which he took as a sign it was working. "It…hurts," he gasped, struggling to talk through the severe pain.

"I know it does," Hermione said softly, cupping his face in her free hand. "Just try to take deep breaths, Ron."

Ron let out an anguished scream that he had no idea he was capable of producing when Hermione put on another layer of Dittany. "Oh...gods...Why the...bloody...hell...does it...have...to hurt...so...much?" He struggled to form coherent sentences, and closed his eyes, gasping for air.

"Ron," Hermione said sternly, taking his face in both of her hands. "Open your eyes."

He did so, and looked up at the girl with bushy brown hair and chocolate eyes who was hovering him. "You need to take deep breaths. Working yourself up over it will only make it hurt worse. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can find Harry." Ron had completely forgotten about Harry, as embarrassing as it was to admit. Yeah, his best friend had been in the back of his mind through everything, but the last thirty-six hours of his life had been centered solely around his and Hermione's survival.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, reaching up to rub his thumb against her cheek.

"Don't be," Hermione told him, placing her hand on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze. She looked outside and then back at him. "Let's move away from the cave entrance. It looks like it's going to rain. Do you think you can manage to move?" Ron gave her a feeble nod and sat up with Hermione's help. She hooked her arm around his waist, instructing him to put some of his weight onto her as he limped, very slowly, back around to the small sanctuary in the side of the cave.

"I won't leave your side again," Hermione promised him softly, kissing him lightly. It felt weird for Ron that they were both able to show signs of affection now, without either one of their faces turning a blazing red. It was usually just the tip of his ears that turned red now. After so many years of loving from a distance, it was a foreign experience to be loving up close.

"Thank you, you've been amazing, Hermione," Ron quietly told her, avoiding eye contact. His thank you was weak at best. He owed her so much more than a thank you. He would have bled to death from bleeding - whether it be internal or external - had it not been for her. She had been so brave, braver than he could ever imagine being.

"You don't need to thank me," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "Now lay down. Relax." She patted her lap, gesturing for him to set his head there, and began mindlessly running her fingers through his hair after he laid down.

"Where do you think Harry is?" Ron asked after a moment of silence. He looked up at Hermione, and he could see the tranquility in her eyes transform into sadness. It was clear to him, the forever daft Ronald Weasley, that she was carrying a huge burden emotionally and mentally. He wasn't always clueless when it came to other people, especially when that person was Hermione. Seeing her like this upset him. She didn't deserve it.

Hermione pursed her lips and didn't answer him. Ron could tell she was holding something back. Either she was afraid of hurting him, or appearing weak. He could tell by the way her eyes lowered, her slender fingers found themselves wound in her frizzy curls, and the creases in her forehead. You weren't best friends with someone, hell, in love with someone, for seven years and not get to know little details like that.

"Hermione..." Ron repeated softly, nervous about upsetting her further. "You didn't answer my question. Are you alright?" It was highly uncharacteristic of Hermione to not answer a question, considering her reflex was to shout out the answer before the person could finish their sentence. And she always liked to give her input when it came to situations, especially something as important as this...unless she was upset. Then she retreated into her dark corner of the world, where she could hurt without letting her weakness lower the levels of optimism in others.

Before he had time to react, Hermione's tears were escaping her eyes and landing on his chest. She leaned over him, rested her elbows on him, and buried her face in her hands. Ron was dumbstruck. He didn't know what to do. Whatever he did to attempt to comfort her wouldn't suffice. Whatever he said was more likely to make her feel worse, rather than better.

"Hermione... don't cry, please," Ron choked out, unsure of what to do. He gently took her arms off of him and sat up. "Why are you crying, love?" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, any space between them eliminated. He rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed. "Can you tell me why you're crying?"

"It's just...Harry..." Hermione said, her voice muffled as she spoke into his chest and sobs. "What if we don't find him? Snatchers could have him and we wouldn't know it."

Ron kept silent. He simply inhaled the smell of her hair, and thinking carefully about what to say - something he did so rarely he wasn't even sure quite how to go about it. "Harry's not dead, or captured," Ron assured her, stroking her hair. "Even if he is captured, he'll escape. Don't you have faith in him?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione protested, sounding offended that he would even suggest such a thing.

"Then you shouldn't worry about it," Ron told her. Yes, worry was an appropriate emotion, and on the contrary, he did think they _should _ be worrying. If they didn't worry, they wouldn't have as much motivation to find him, and they needed to find him as quickly as possible so they could resume the hunt for the horcruxes.

"I have to worry about him. He's our best friend. He's more than that, he's my brother," Hermione said, the tears that had subdued returning fully-blown.

Dealing with crying girls, or women, as that's what Hermione was now, was never Ron's strong suit. He didn't trust himself to say the right thing, so he just held her. He kept her close to him and only focused on Hermione. When the wetness on his shirt stopped being consistently replenished by her continuous flow of tears, he pulled back and kissed her forehead.

"Harry's strong. He'll be okay. We'll be back together, the three of us, before you know it," he said. Even with her chocolate brown eyes tear-stained, her cheeks red, her hair disheveled, and her eyes puffy, she was beautiful. More beautiful than she would ever know. He couldn't believe it had taken him as long as it did for him to realize it...actually, it he did know it, he just wasn't able to accept the fact that he had been falling hard for Hermione Jean Granger. He had long ago surpassed the fancy stage. He was head over heels in love with her.

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said quietly. Ron could tell she was embarrassed and thought of herself as weak now. "For everything."

"Don't thank me," Ron softly replied, tilting her chin up with his outstretched index finger and slowly leaning in. The feeling of her tender lips on his was unbelievable. Her lips parted, granting his tongue access. The kiss was the opposite of the ones he had shared with Lavender in sixth year. The ones with Lavender had been hormone-fueled and released sexual tension he'd been bottling up for years, since the moment he first started fancying Hermione. Hermione's kisses were soft, and gentle, and passionate. Passionate in an entirely different way. They were passionate with genuine love, instead of pure lust.

He could actually feel his stomach twisting into knots as he moved his hands to the back of her head and gently ran his fingers through her hair. Oh, how he had longed to be able to hold her in his arms and kiss her for so many years. He never dreamed he'd actually be able to one day. He could feel fresh tears leaking from her eyes, and realized it must've been how Harry felt fifth year with Cho Chang. He hoped she wasn't crying because his kissing skills were horrendous.

Ron pulled back after giving her one last lingering peck. "It's your turn to get some rest," Ron gently said, wiping her hair out of her eyes and patting his lap. She slowly lowered herself onto the ground, using his leg as a pillow, and let her eyes close as she drifted into a deep sleep.

Ron sensed, just by the way she fell asleep so fast, that she'd been depriving herself of adequate sleep. Being her stubborn self, she insisted on keeping watch for as long as she could during the night, and she had apparently gotten out early, as when he had woken up, she'd been gone. He was worried. This was taking a toll of her. Just because he had a gash in his side didn't mean he was incapable of keeping watch. If he saw something, he had his wand, and he could wake her up. In the meantime, he just let her sleep while his fingers ran gingerly through her curls.


	3. Freed at Last

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Got it? Comprendo? Everything belongs to JKR and its respective owners.**

_A/N: __As always, thank you for reading my story, it means the world to me. And thank you to each and every one of you who reviewed. Maybe one day I'll have so many reviews I won't be able to take the time to personally reply to every review I get. One day... My stress has deflated somewhat, since I went on a week-long vacation, but I have school tomorrow, and my anxiety is returning. I'm hoping that this story will remain an outlet for all of my emotions, and I can transfer whatever I'm feeling into the chapter I'm writing. - Erin_

**'All**_** great changes are preceded by chaos.' - Deepak Chopra**_

A pair of green eyes flickered open. They moved back and forth, taking in their surroundings. The spectacles over them were adjusted as the owner of the eyes sat up. Calloused hands reached out and rubbed the sensitive skin on the owner's arms, that had not seen clean water or soap in days. The person groaned. His head was throbbing, and he had no idea where to go from here. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and it only increased his senses, despite their slight slowness, due to the bump he discovered on the top of his head.

"Hello?" he called out, feeling about the lightless room, his hands running over coarse stone walls that sliced through his rough hands. "Ah!" he gasped, clutching his hands in between his legs and biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming. After sucking on the wounds to try to slow the bleeding, he gritted his teeth and went back to tentatively feeling about his surroundings. His glasses were almost useless in this environment. Even with them on he couldn't make out any features of the room, let alone his hand in front of his face. The entire room was just shadows that bounced about the room, creating different levels of darkness, all of them, however, preventing him from seeing. With his glasses off, the shadows and shades of black meshed into one flawlessly blended black canvas.

A small piece of wood stuck out of the wall. His fingers caressed it, feeling it, learning it. Whatever it was, he could use it to his advantage. Was it part of a door? Was it simply lodged between the stones that had assaulted his hands with their roughness? Was it some random piece? Was it not so random, and in fact, placed there with a purpose? Or attached to something with a purpose? Questions like these ran through his mind. He was never one to study particularly hard in school, and spend time on the intellectual angle of things, so it was a rare experience indeed, to be studious, attentive, or observant. But that is what happened when your brain gets thrust into survival mode. Fight or flight. There was no flight, as far as he knew, so he was searching for it, trying not to slip into the desperateness that would cloud his thinking, and trying to remain calm. If he found an exit, he was prepared to fight in order for flight to be possible.

"Harry?" a male voice called out from the darkness. It was hard to identify just _where _the voice had come from. It was hard to tell. Even with the glasses, he could only out distinct shades of darkness in the room.

"Harry?" the voice said again. This time, it was closer. Harry pushed himself up against the wall, trying to flatten himself into the surroundings. It was pointless thing to do, considering he was in complete darkness. The one thing he _could _do, however, was try to keep his breathing silent, and avoid running into the owner of the voice as it got nearer. The voice kept repeating the same thing. _"Harry? Harry is that you? Harry?" _No matter how much Harry felt familiarity within the voice of the person, he wouldn't find out who it was. He didn't want to risk getting himself killed.

A bright, artificial light shone in his face, following a big _bang!_ The wall wasn't there anymore. His eyes squinted shut immediately as the light was followed by footsteps. After, gods know how long he'd been stuck in there, he wasn't used to light. He no longer had a day-night cycle. It might be situated with when the outside world considered day and night, it might not. He slept when he was tired, and sat in the corner and waited for his captors to shove a small plate of disgusting food through a small plate slot.

"Harry, you alright mate?" the male asked. Harry's eyes had yet to adjust to the light, and it was giving him a stabbing headache.

"Yeah, just a bit roughed up," he replied.

"Good. Me and some DA members came and got you as soon as we could. With Snape as headmaster, nobody is informed of anything but what the Ministry wants us to know," the voice said. The DA. He had said the DA, which meant he could be trusted. Nobody knew of the DA except Dumbledore, himself, who was now in a tomb, and Umbridge, who was too much of a coward to do anything. "Neville?" he asked when the pieces latched themselves together in his mind, which was sluggish from drowsiness, the blinding light, and the headache he was experiencing.

"We need to get you out of here, mate," Neville said, bending down to grab his arm.

Harry felt an uncomfortable pressure being applied to him. It was as if he was being pulled through a tight tube. It knocked the air out of him, and he felt like he was being strangled.

"That was lovely," Harry said sarcastically when his fit hit the ground. He bent over so he could dust himself off and took a look around. Wherever they were, it was dark, but nowhere near as dark as his prison cell. Candles were spread out around the stone hallway, with a stone floor. A maroon rug led down a hall where there were three doors. Two on both sides of the wall, and one in between. "Where are we?"

"Headquarters," Neville said, dropping his hand back to his side and ushering Harry down the hallway. "Everyone will be thrilled to see you. We've all been worried."

Harry simply nodded and followed Neville down the corridor. The wooden squeaked as it was swung open. Harry could only see the back of Neville's head, but he recognized the voices.

"Neville, how did it go?" Lupin asked.

"Any luck?" added Tonks.

"My goodness!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, swooping over to Neville and wrapping a motherly arm around him. "Leave the boy alone." Her jaw fell to the floor when she saw who was standing behind him.

"Harry!" she yelped, engulfing him in a hug.

"Harry?" Tonks and Lupin said at the same time.

"Is Harry here?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Right," Neville started saying. "Since you lot wouldn't let me answer the questions, I'll fill you in now. Mission successful." He stepped to the side so that Harry, who was still being hugged tightly by Mrs. Weasley, was in full view.

Excited shouts of "Harry!" rang throughout the room as Order members came up to give him hugs.

"Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sitting down at the table after Harry had finished greeting everyone.

"No..." Harry said slowly, hanging his head down. "We got separated. I have no idea where they are now." He was embarrassed. Ashamed. Disappointed in himself. It was his mission, and he was the one left in charge of it. He should not have let Ron and Hermione come with him, and he should have protected them better. The hardest thing he'd ever had to do was look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes and tell her he didn't know where her youngest son was, or a girl she considered her daughter. (And frankly, as far as everyone but Hermione and Ron were concerned, would one day be her daughter-in-law.)

Mrs. Weasley couldn't hide her disappoint. She loved Harry as a son, and she didn't think any less of him. The fact that at least he was safe lifted her spirits, but Ron was her flesh and blood. And though she would jump in front of a killing curse for Harry, Ron, or Hermione without an thought to it, Ron was still her biological son. She had carried him in her womb for nine months. She had delivered him, helped him learn to speak, take his first steps, and watched every major moment in his life from the moment he was birthed.

"I suppose you want to know what happened," Harry said. He sighed. He was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. The group nodded. Harry sat down at the head of the table and took a breath. "You all know how Dumbledore left me a mission. A mission I'm supposed to finish. I wish I could tell all of you what it was about, but Dumbledore made me promise not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. I respect him to much to break that promise.

"We were in a forest somewhere. We changed locations every few days. I have no idea where we were at the time. Hermione was the one who apparated, and we just side-alonged. We were on our way to try to find...certain object, that meant a lot to You-Know-Who. We think these items...well Dumbledore thought they hold the key to defeating him. We've found some of the items, but we still have a decent amount left to find.

"We were in the tent. Hermione had fallen asleep shortly after setting it up. She had left Ron in charge of setting the shields and charms. I don't know what went wrong, but the shield wasn't working properly. We were found by Snatchers. I can honestly say I have never seen Ron look as angry as he did when they were holding Hermione by her hair. He blamed himself for the position we were caught in.

"They took Ron and Hermione to the house of a well-established Death Eater. Don't ask me who, I don't know. I was never taken there. I managed to escape their grasps, but I was recaught, and sent to Askaban. I don't know how long I was in there, but it was dark, and cold, and I was alone. I have no idea where Hermione and Ron are, but starting at the homes of Death Eaters might be a good start..."

The room was silent. Everyone was soaking up what Harry had just said. He was right...if they could find the house Hermione and Ron were at, they might be able to find Ron and Hermione themselves. One by one, each member of the Order expressed their support. They stood behind Dumbledore's ideas of the horcruxes, though they had no idea about the horcruxes. It was unreal to Harry that these people would place their life on the line because of faith in a man who had informed none of them about what they were supporting.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but can I talk to you after I take a bath? I haven't bathed since the site we stayed at before we were caught," Harry apologetically said.

"Sure thing, Dear," Mrs. Weasley said, managing to smile. "Straight upstairs, third door on the left."

_A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter was short! I am frantically trying to update. I have a decent portion of Chapter 4 done, and I had to put down the pen, figuratively, and finish up this chapter so you, the reader, has an idea of what is happening with Harry. Yes, this is a Romione story, but Harry is a pivotal part of the plot. That is all I'm going to say on that subject._


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